Through Hope Lost and Found
by RabidMiacid
Summary: It was hope that lead him to damnation. He didn't know if he could trust it to lead him back.
1. Stranger in the night

He moved quickly down the rainy streets, several times losing his footing on the slick stone and almost falling into the frigid mud. A few faces poked out from their make shift shelters to glimpse the cloaked traveler, but none watched for long - in a city of refugees, there was little concern with the presence of strangers, save for the curiosity of which one of many atrocities it was they were fleeing from. And so, it was with little attention drawn to himself that the stranger managed to throw himself onto the Scryer's lift just as it left the ground level for the great library above.

As he waited for the lift to reach the top, the man clung desperately to his drenched cloak, his eyes downcast, barley visible beneath his hood. They were the only discernable feature, a vivid green that glowed faintly in the absence of light. Such eyes were not uncommon - many blood elves roamed the city - but his seemed to burn particularly intensely in a way that the young sorceress who briefly glimpsed them as he stepped off of the lift would remember them for days after.

The man did not stop to look at the slightly befuddled woman as her face disappeared below the terrace, but rather kept walking in the same hurried pace towards the impressive building in the center of the rise. Not bothering to pull back his hood, he swept into a hallway to the east side of the building, ignoring the rows and rows of shelves filled with knowledge that the great mages of distant worlds could only dream of getting their hands on. He finally stopped outside of a plain door, staring passively at the woman who guarded it. She, in turn, regarded him with cold, calculating eyes.

"If you are seeking shelter, traveler, you should head back to the lower city. There is no room for you here," she said coolly.

The stranger shook his head. "No. I must speak with Voren'Thal."

"I'm afraid not. The Seer is resting now," she narrowed her eyes. "He is not to be bothered, least of all by some nameless wanderer."

"Please," the man stepped forward. "It is urgent."

"The answer is no. Now leave before-"

"What seems to be the trouble Sellina?"

The door behind her had opened to reveal a pale elf with silver hair. His green eyes held the faintest traces of blue in their depths, and they regarded the traveler with a sort of amused curiosity.

"I am sorry sir. This man just showed up here and demanded an audience with you."

"Please, Voren," the stranger cut in. "My friend and I are in serious trouble and I think you may be the only one who can help us," his voice cracked slightly.

The seer nodded with a small smile. "Well, then, I think it is best you come inside."

Sellina started. "But Voren…"

"It is alright, Sellina. You may take your leave."

"I mean no disrespect sir, but," she glanced at the hooded man warily. "Are you sure it is wise to simply invite this stranger into your quarters? He has given no indication of alliances and-"

Voren'Thal cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I have dreamt of this," he said simply, then turned and smiled broadly at her. "It will be alright. I have been up these past few nights wondering when it is he would come."

Sellina stared at the older elf, her mouth opening and closing and she struggled to find the right words to express her mixed emotions. Seeing that the Seer's expression did not change - that same warm smile and sparkling eyes that seemed such a stark contrast to the rest of his frail countenance boring into her, she gave in and nodded. With a final, sideways glance at the stranger, she turned and left.

Voren'thal turned to the hooded man, regarding him quietly for a moment before stepping aside and gesturing for him to come inside. The wanderer swept past him, one hand still clutching his cloak tightly to keep his hood up. He paused a few feet into the room, looking around nervously. He had traveled days to make it to this place, and was now quite uncertain as to what to say. The planned monologues in his head had fallen apart at the old elf's smile. He had not expected it to be easy to make it into the Seer's quarters, and yet, despite Sellina's efforts, it had been.

The soft sound of the door closing brought him back, and he turned to face the man he had so desperately wanted to speak to.

"You mentioned you and your friend were in trouble," Voren'Thal stated matter-of-factly, tracing a finger gently across the doors surface.

"Y-yes," he stammered, trying to find the words to explain his situation. "We…we have gotten ourselves…into something that I don't think we can get out of on our own…I…" he stopped. It had been so easy in his head. Go in, tell Voren'Thal what had happened, and pray that the Seer would help him. Instead, things were unraveling faster every second, making his head spin and his heart pound. The words would not come. He chose to stare at the floor instead. He was shaking visibly now, and he knew it.

Still, the Seer seemed unfazed as he drifted across the room and eased himself down on a pillow beside a stack of books. "Your friend is not with you?"

"No. He is…" his voice cracked again. "He is in too much pain to move right now."

"No doubt a result of the beatings he must have suffered at the hands of his former masters."

The stranger's head snapped up and he stared at the old elf who simply returned his stare with a friendly gaze.

"It is just as well," Voren'Thal spoke. "I doubt that even in this city he would escape notice."

The hooded mans eyes flicked towards the door and he contemplated running.

"It is alright, Kael," Voren'Thal said with a smile. "As I have said, I have dreamed of this encounter. Sit."

Kael felt as though he was going to faint. The room was spinning rapidly now and his chest felt tight. He glanced nervously at the door again.

"It has been proofed against eavesdroppers. Do not worry. Now sit," he gestured towards one of the pillows across from him.

It was with a great lack of grace that Kael managed to stumble towards the sitting area and collapse onto on of the soft pillow. His hood had fallen back slightly, revealing stray chunks of golden hair that fell over his wide eyes.

The Seer merely continued to smile at him, conjuring a small pot of tea and two cups, one of which he offered to the visibly shaken prince, who declined with a nervous shake of his had. Voren'Thal shrugged and poured himself a cup and sipped thoughtfully for a moment.

"So, tell me," he started. "What has occurred that you would finally realize your situation and come to me for help?"

Kael hung his head and closed his eyes, desperately trying to regain what little composure he had left. It was something he immediately regretted, as the headache that had been threatening to form over the last several minutes hit him full force. He managed to choke back a sob, the memories were flooding back now, resurfacing painfully along with the guilt that came with years of mistakes. He forced it all back down and opened his eyes to find a cup of tea being held in just in front of him.

"You really should drink, you know. It will help you collect your thoughts."

This time, he took it, inhaling the familiar aroma and staring at his haggard reflection in the dark brews surface. It smelled like home.

"Better?"

He nodded, finally lifted his head and met the Seer's eyes.

"Please…" he whispered. "Help us…"

"First, you must tell me what happened."

"I…I don't know where to start," he fought back another sob. "The things I've done…I…I don't know…"

"The beginning is always a good place."

Those blue-tinted eyes stared into his, and Kael had the distinct impression they were boring into whatever remained of his soul. He looked back down at the tea, unable to bear the feeling any longer. With his own, scarcely recognizable self staring back at him, Kael took a deep shuddering breath and began to speak.


	2. After Icecrown

Vashj had coiled into herself, a sobbing lump of fins and scale. It was only pride - and perhaps a bit of shock - that kept Kael from doing the same. Instead, he had opted to sit beside the naga, gently rubbing what he was fairly certain was her back with frostbitten hands, staring numbly at the Draenei sage and the unmoving pile of blankets and furs on the other side of the room.

The sage's face was grim. It had been from the moment Kael and Vashj had half carried, half dragged Illidan through the portal, but with each passing moment his expression had grown darker still. Time, which had passed so blazingly fast only hours before, had ground to a halt.

Illidan was stable. That was all that could be said. They had stopped the bleeding, treated the frostbite, and slowed the rot that had appeared and spread all too quickly for anyone's liking. Akama had assured them that Illidan was out of danger. Exhausted and shaken, Vashj had pulled away and collapsed. Kael had, at Akama's urging, followed her, to comfort her and make sure she wasn't slipping back into torpor.

It was a fairly good cover, in Kael's opinion. And he would've fallen for it had he not seen the subtle flicker in the sage's eyes. This wasn't about Vashj. She was fine. Distraught and unable to stop crying, but physically fine. It was Illidan that the sage was worried about. No infection should appear so quickly or spread so rapidly. Especially not after hours spent on a glacier. Stranger, and more alarming, still, Illidan wasn't hypothermic. Akama said nothing of it, but Kael had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Something was terribly wrong, and it had to do with that horrible wound.

Akama shifted the blankets around their leader, tucking him in almost paternally, before picking a fur off the floor and walking towards them. He placed the soft fur carefully over Vashj and motioned for Kael to follow him.

"I need to examine your hands."

Kael unconsciously flexed his fingers and winced, he knew the frostbite was bad, but his current concerns were else where.

"How is he?"

The sage merely looked at him, then cast a side glance at Vashj before moving back towards the table and the unconscious Illidan.

The prince stood, moving slowly towards the sage and their fallen leader. A damp cloth had been placed just below Illidan's horns, hiding most of the scarring on his face. Kael briefly wondered if the cloth was hot or cold. The strong scent of medicinal herbs assaulted his senses and left him feeling slightly light headed – though certainly not as dizzy or sickened as he had been at the sight of the wound or the scars.

Akama pulled him onto a bench and carefully worked the gloves off his hands, his blue eyes flitting back to the unconscious figure beside them. Kael winced, trying not cry out as the draenei unlinked the mail and cut the first glove off. The flesh was blue-black, and Kael suspected several fingers were broken. Still, the numbness that had encompassed him since their retreat from Icecrown remained – he hardly noticed what he knew full well should have been excruciating pain. A minute later the other glove was off and his hands were soaking in some warm slimy mixture he couldn't identify. They sat in silence for a while, Akama occasionally prodding at his hands with some sort of root and adding more herbs to the wooden bowl.

"The wound itself is no longer a threat to his life," the sage stated finally. "He will recover from the blood loss. His heart was barely nicked and will heal, and he is breathing well enough on his own."

Kael nodded, watching as Akama pulled one of his hands from the bowl and snapped a finger bone back into place with a sickening snap.

"However," Akama hesitated and glanced over at Vashj. "I have never seen an infection quite like this. It has developed and spread faster than anything I have ever seen. More disturbing to me is that fever. It seems unrelated to the wound. It is more as if he is... fighting something...something else."

The sage lifted his face and met Kael's eyes, another sharp snap making the prince jump slightly.

"Would you happen to know if Illidan might have...some other condition that would have been triggered by his current weakness?"

Kael frowned, uncertain of how to respond.

"I can not think of anything like that...no," he replied softly.

"Very well then. I am going to monitor this closely – it could be a symptom of some form of curse. I know little of this...Lich King you were tracking, but it this rot is very unnatural. However, if you think of anything that might potentially be..abnormal about Illidan's past health, I would like you to tell me," he glanced uneasily at Vashj. "I understand somethings are preferably left alone, but a healer should be privy to anything that may affect the health of their charge, yes?"

Kael nodded mutley.

"Try to flex your fingers now."

The blood elf grimaced. The numbness had faded and it felt as if needles had been stuck through his fingers.

"That is what I thought," Akama said simply and reached for a roll of gauze. He bandaged Kael's hands carefully, layering the thick, wool like cloth with stuff leather, binding the elf's fingers together.

"The pain is good. It means there is likely no severe permanent nerve damage. You would do good to try to flex your hands a little every hour so that they do not stiffen further," the sage gave him an amused smile and Kael found himself amazed, not for the first time, how quickly the draenei's mood could change. "I would suggest you not wear metal gloves on your next outing to a glacier. And count yourself lucky you still have your hands."


	3. Frostbite and fevers

Bleh. Forgot disclaimer. Me no own, Blizz already has plenty of money from me. Also, I have some issues with this chapter and how the dialogue turned out. Anyway, give me feedback.

* * *

It had taken all of a week for Kael to decide he absolutely despised Outland. It had been one thing when they were searching for Illidan and battling Magtheridon's froces – there had been plenty then to distract him. With Illidan in a coma, however, there was little direction, just worry and doubt. After a month, there had been more worry and doubt, accompanied by a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept him up at night wondering what his father would think. Did he make the right choice? Had he simply traded one hell for another? His mind refused to rest, and it was making him sick. 

He sighed, drumming gloved fingers along cold stone. He assumed it was cold, anyway. His finger were still fairly numb, and it irritated him to have his senses so dulled. He supposed he was better off than Vashj, who had begun shedding her frostbitten scales and refused to leave the small room she had claimed for herself, save small forays into the hall to ask whoever was passing by if Illidan had awoken.

It took one half hearted glance at the horizon for Kael to decide visiting the moping naga would be far more worthwhile than simply waiting for something to happen.

Vashj's room wasn't far from Illidan's and, judging by small, shiny flecks on the floor, she visited him frequently while no one else was around. Now, however, the candles had been snuffed and the only sign that anything dwelt there was the pile of furs in one corner. With a small smirk, Kael crept over and knelt beside her. One serpent had nosed its way out, and was sleepily nuzzling the ground. Kael smiled at it and gently rubbed its nose. Fortunatley, Vashj's serpents knew him by now and no longer tried to bite him as they had in the past – with the exception of one on the right side whom she insisted didn't even really like her and would probably kill her if it didn't depend on her as a host of sorts. It rubbed against his hand gently, gave a satisfied flick of it's tongue and slid back under the blankets. Moments later, the lump shifted and a single, violet eye gazed back at him.

"Mm. Kael? What are you doing in here?"

"Came to see how you were feeling," he smiled and gently patted the furs.

"Illidan's not awake yet, then?" The furs slid a bit further, revealing her brow and a portion of her cheek.

"Not yet. But Akama says he's doing better. He should wake up soon," she was pulling the blanket over her face again, he had lost her already.

"That's what I hear everyday. Tell me when he actually wakes up. Until then, leave me alone."

Kael gave an exasperated sigh and tugged gently on the blankets.

"You can't keep this up, Vashj. I'm tired of naga sneaking up on me while I'm bathing and asking where you are."

That wasn't entirely true. The naga never asked Kael anything.

"I'm gross. I'm not coming out until Illidan's better, and when he does wake up, I am covering myself in a sheet, telling him I'm glad he's alright, and coming right back in here."

Kael laughed. "We both know that's not true. The moment he wakes up, you'll be all over him."

"Shut up."

He laughed again and yanked on the furs, pulling them off her head. She squealed childishly and scrambled to snatch the blankets back from him, shoving one of her hands over his face and nearly knocking him over.

"Bastard! Don't look at me!"

Laughing so hard he feared he would hyperventilate, he pulled on her wrists, pulling them both down and receiving a soft bite on the nose for his efforts.

His eyes locked with hers and he smiled. She didn't look nearly as bad as she claimed, although there were a few spots where her scales hadn't come in fully yet, giving her a slightly blotchy appearance.

"You best be damn glad we like you enough to not poison you, Prince," she hissed, hitting his shoulder.

"You needed it. Have you smiled once since we got back?"

She sat up, pulling the blankets to her chest and sighing.

"I haven't really had reason too," she gave him a small smile. "Plus, it makes my scales crack. Which is disgusting. So, no. I don't imagine I have."

Kael sighed and leaned against the wall, idly flexing his fingers – it was becoming a habit – and stared at her.

"Well, now you have."

She laughed, a strange sound he doubted he would ever get used to.

"And if I ever need to again, I can just think of one of my lieutenants sneaking up on you in the bath."

He made a face. "Would you tell them to stop that, please? It's actually rather terrifying."

"In that case, no," she stuck her tongue out.

Unfortunately, the light mood couldn't even hope to last in the Black Temple, and they were soon both sitting in awkward silence, staring at the floor.

"Is he really doing better?" Vashj asked timidly. "Have you gone to see him?"

"He seemed a bit less pale last time I was in there, but..." he hesitated. "He still seemed feverish and the wound was still seeping a little."

"Oh."

"I'm sure he'll wake up soon though," he added quickly. "I mean, he is breathing better and..."

Vashj still looked absolutely crestfallen. Kael mentally kicked himself and reached over, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

"It's going to be alright. Illidan is perhaps the strongest person I have ever had the honor of meeting. He's going to come out of this just fine," he placed a hand beneath her chin and lifter her face to look in her eyes. "You'll see."

She smiled weakly and nodded.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For coming to see me. I think...I needed someone to try and cheer me up. And you're right. He'll be alright. He always seemed to have such uncanny luck when it comes to pulling though, even when odds seemed impossible."

Kael nodded and they sat in silence for a bit longer, before it was interrupted by soft footsteps just outside. There was a gentle tap on the door frame, and the both looked up to meet Akama's calm blue eyes.

"He's beginning to stir. It may simply be a fever dream, but I figured you would like to know."

Kael stood, almost nervously, and held out his hand for Vashj. She seemed to cling to him, he could feel her small claws digging into his bicep, and he suddenly felt dizzy. Illidan had been in a coma for over month. Between the fever and the recurring infection in his chest, he had been close to death several times. There was no telling just how he would be when he woke up, and, as they approached his room, Kael realized he was even more scared than he'd been since those terrible moments on Icecrown.

Akama said nothing, simply moving to one side of the demon hunter's bed and gently dabbing at his scarred face with a damp cloth. Sure enough, Illidan did seem to be stirring, his brow furrowed and his claws curled slightly into the furs. However, he also seemed to be struggling, fighting for each ragged breath. Kael cast a nervous glance at Akama, who still said nothing, only frowning and checking Illidan's temperature and pulse.

Vashj slithered slowly, clutching her furs to herself, face pale, to Illidans side and gently took one of his hands in hers. Kael almost fell, not having realized just how much he had been leaning on her, and clenched his hands into loose fists, trying to calm his nerves.

Time moved agonizingly slow, as if whatever aspect controlled it's flow on that barren world had a personal grudge against them. Tears had begun to roll down Vashj's cheeks – she made no effort to wipe them away, and Kael suspected she was too nervous to notice them.

"Please..."she whispered. "You're almost there. Just a bit further and you'll be back."

Kael stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady himself more than to comfort her.

Illidan groaned and shifted lightly.

Akama checked his pulse again and very carefully let some water drop on the unconscious elf's lips.

Illidan's brow furrowed further and his lips moved, parting slightly.

Vashj let out a small sound, and out of the corner of his eye, Kael could see that Illidan was now squeezing her hand weakly.

She reached out and smoothed his forehead.

"It's alright. You're alright. Just come back to us."

He groaned again and very, very slowly, a dim glow, like an ember, started in the back of his empty sockets. It wasn't much, and it didn't get any brighter, but it was enough for Kael to let out the breathe he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Vashj was crying now, smoothing Illidan's forehead and whispering softly in words that sounded both vaguely familiar and entirely alien to Kael's ears. Illidan's lips moved, mouthing something Kael couldn't make out. Akama brushed the back of his hand briefly across pale violet flesh.

"The fever is still very high. He's likely delirious," he said very softly.

Vashj and Kael both nodded numbly, not really listening. Vashj was holding Illidan's hand to her face and sobbing. Intuitively, Akama handed Vashj the bowl of water.

"Not too much. He won't be able to swallow, and he won't stay awake for long."

He didn't. The glow had faded to nothing in minutes, Vashj laying her head on the bed beside him and gently stroking his hair. Kael rubbed her back and gently touched Illidan's arm.

"He's back now. I told you things would be alright."

Vashj said nothing, drifting into a light sleep. It didn't matter if she had heard him, the words were for his own benefit. Even through the gloves and the numbness he could feel the heat that coursed through Illidan's body – and the cold sweat that covered it.


	4. Interlude

A loud crack of thunder pulled Kael from his thoughts, making him jump. The cup fell from his hands and he watched it with a sort of strange fascination as it rolled across the floor. He could feel Voren's impassive gaze, but couldn't bring himself to look up and meet the older elf's eyes. Voren hadn't been there. He had heard rumors of what came next - of that Kael was sure. But he hadn't _been_ there, hadn't had to witness…

Kael shivered, suddenly cold.

"Kael?"

"We...we really thought he was getting better for awhile," Kael said softly. "Akama was using herbs to keep the fever down. In a few weeks he was able to sit up again, was arguing with Vashj..." He shook his head. "We had no idea that he was still..."

"Not even Akama?" Voren picked up the cup, setting it gently on a table.

"I...I think he might have known something was wrong. I don't think he knew just _what_...he mentioned that the fever should have gone down on it's own, that the wound should have been healing faster...but..." He looked up nervously, eyes darting around the room. "I thought it was because of Frostmourne...I never thought...even Vashj didn't know about..." Kael trailed off, shutting his eyes tightly. There were too many memories. He really didn't want to relive it, he didn't want to relive any of the past 3 years.

He didn't realize how bad he was shaking until he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.


	5. The Hand of Gul'dan

The wind whipped about unpleasantly, carrying with it searing embers and the stench of something more foul than death. There was no where in the Valley that was free of it, save the Temple – and even there one could still hear the menacing howl.

Kael had heard something else in that howl. Something that had beckoned for him to brave the wastes, something that had held far more promise than the fevered ravings of a man who was clearly going mad.

..._betrayal...it is something we share in common...that feeling of loss...that desire for revenge..._

Almost a year had passed and he could no longer remember the exact words of the promise that had bound him to the Outlands and it's new master. He could scarcely even remember the reason he had made the promise. Azeroth seemed farther away now than ever, like a place form a dream that he couldn't return to no matter how hard he tried.

It was because of that dream that he now approached a nightmare.

_...they claimed they knew how to help you...but they lied didn't they...they lied to bring you here..._

The Hand of Gul'dan was imposing, frightening and oddly intriguing all at once. It tainted the very sky green, fel lightning rolling raining from it's summit. From the very first time he had laid eyes on it, Kael had been both terrified and in awe of the sheer evil that radiated from it. Now, gazing up at it from it's base, he found himself too overwhelmed to feel anything.

_...it's not much farther now young prince...soon...you will have the answers you seek...the answers that __**they**_ _could never give you..._

Kael touched a hand gently to his throat, still slightly bruised and swollen, a reminder of Illidan's madness. He'd never forget the feel of those claws as they closed around his neck, nor the look on Vashj's face as she remained motionless in the doorway. He had awoken alone in his darkened room, greeted only by the wind and the whispers it carried.

_...forget them...__they are nothing but liars and thieves...they may claim they know best, but __they cannot help you...they never planned to help you...only __**I**_ _can...come to me..._

He stared at the fel pits, the green flames licking at the air around him. The very stone he stood on seemed somehow twisted, corrupted by some force he couldn't begin to comprehend. The air around him burned, stinging his eyes and nose. The taint of the place made him sick to his stomach and more, bringing with it such a twisted, horrid pain, he could swear it came from his very heart and soul.

..._your pain is something even they cannot take from you...something that can make you strong..._

He embraced it. It made him feel alive.

The flames leaped suddenly higher, filling the sky as the howling grew louder and more menacing, the wind swirling around him to create a vortex of green fire. Briefly, Kael was filled with dread; the sinking feeling that he was about to walk into his death, but it was quickly replaced with a calm he had never felt before, as if all of his cares and thoughts had been burned away leaving only serenity.

_...together we can make them pay...make them suffer as we have suffered...our armies will crush all who stand in our way_

Kael took a deep breath as the flames parted before him, revealing a path that lead straight into the mountain.

..._true power...true salvation...both can be yours...all you have to do is accept it...all you have to do is set me free..._

Eyes narrowed, Kael pulled his cloak tighter and stepped forward.


	6. Cold Comfort

The ancient text had an odd sort of weight to it. It was certainly an unnatural thing, perhaps even imagined, as the book had been so abused by time and it's prior keepers that it had become a pathetic, wilted thing. The spine was bent so severely the book would not stand up on a shelf, the covers were charred and peeling, pages torn and falling free from their bindings. For a scholar who had come from the most magnificent institution of magical learning still in existence, it was almost a crime to see.

Despite it's appearance, however, it still radiated a power all it's own. In fact, if Kael hadn't known any better, he would have sworn it was burning him.

Things had not improved over the past weeks. Kael had found himself spending less and less time at the temple – no doubt in the coming days he would cease going all together. Illidan was raving almost constantly, his head rarely clear of what ever delirium had taken over him. Very, very rarely he would go silent and his shoulders would sag as if all the strength had drained out of him, and briefly he would be almost himself again. Almost, but not quite – he was too exhausted to show that strength that had always seemed to flow from him before. He would slump in some corner, watching the world as if he had just woken up from a dream. Once he had attempted to speak to Kael, shortly after almost strangling him. His voice had been unnaturally soft as he'd fumbled his way through what might have been an apology, maybe something else buried in the words as well, but Kael hadn't listened. He didn't want to be caught in the same room as the madman for long, too well aware of how quickly he could change. He had walked as rapidly as he could without drawing attention to himself, out of the room and down the hall before Illidan had gotten more than a few sentences out.

A small nagging voice pointed out that Illidan didn't give chase. That he had simply stopped at the door and watched him go, wings wrapped around himself like a child's blanket. But Kael didn't really have time for the voices in his head. Not when the ones that came unbidden from else where were so much stronger.

There was a knock on the door and Kael hastily crammed the book into the desk.

"Who is it?"

The door creaked open slightly and a pair of violet eyes and several much smaller pairs of yellow ones peaked through.

"I thought you might want to talk..," she said softly.

Kael's eyes narrowed.

"There's nothing to talk about."

She glided across the floor and came to stop beside him, gently taking his arms.

"Kael...please don't do this," she pleaded. "You're becoming so distant. Don't you do this too."

"Do what? Try to escape this madness? Avoid being dragged down with it?" he pulled free from her and sat back. "Vashj, in case you hadn't noticed, he's gone," she was shaking her head. "He's gone and we're trapped on a floating rock surrounded by enemies and with no way home. If there's anyway out of this, it sure as hell doesn't lie with him."

"He's still trying to fight it..." she seemed more uncertain than he had ever seen her. "He's not gone. He can't be. He's afraid. You can hear it in his voice-"

"When he isn't screaming and throwing things into walls."

"You can hear it in his voice and see it on his face. He's afraid of losing himself and he needs us. Whatever it is that's wrong...he needs us to be there. This dry, barren place, it sucks the life out of people if they don't have anyone. Right now the last thing any of us needs is to be alone."

"Yes. It's far safer to be around someone who can't remember whether or not we're his allies."

"He's sick-"

"He's tried to kill us both!"

Vashj went silent and stared at him, wide eyes glistening.

"He's a danger to every one around him. What happens when he doesn't snap out of it? What happens when he doesn't miss? He's getting worse every day. You can't honestly believe he's just going to wake up one day and this'll be over. He's going to kill one of us. If you insist on staying, it's probably going to be you. Even Akama has cleared out."

Vashj was still silent; the tears had begun to roll down her cheeks.

"What ever it is that's wrong with him, there's no fixing it. The sooner you realize that, the better."

"You're just going to run away from this," she whispered softly.

"No. I'm going to go somewhere where I can figure things out without the constant threat of being snapped in half for breathing."

"You're just going to hid in that floating ship...you say yourself that this isn't just going to blow over, and yet your going to hide."

"I'm going to do what it takes to take my people safe. If it means getting them out of this damned temple – which I assure you, it does – and going to the other side of this rock then so be it. If I have to spend the rest of my days playing with scrap metal, I'll do it. There's nothing for me here," he sighed and squeezed one of her hands. "And there's nothing for you here either."

"I can't just abandon him..."

"Then consider it giving him some space."

"Now you're just playing with semantics," she sank into her coils and leaned against the side of the desk. "You know...he told me the same thing."

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"It was after you had stormed out. He just sighed and told me that I should leave too. That he was so tired of fighting...that he couldn't guarantee my safety anymore. He sounded so heartbroken...I think he's afraid of being alone. I can't blame him. He spent so long in that cell with no one, it must've been like being buried. It wasn't a cell, it was his tomb. He doesn't have anyone but us, and he's still willing to push us away to keep us safe."

She glanced up.

"Think what you want about him. But he's as scared of this as we are. If we leave him..."

"If we don't, we could die. If what you say is true, do you really think that's what he wants? To kill the only people he has?"

Vashj buried her head in her arms.

"I can't just leave him to fight this alone...Kael please. Don't go. At least come around every once in awhile. Please."

Her shoulders were shaking. Kael sighed and sat down on the floor next to her.

"I can't stay. I have to do what's best for my people. I can't let them suffocate on this dusty rock," he ran a shaky hand through his hair. "But I promise, if you need my support, even if it's just a shoulder to cry on and some one to say I told you so, all you have to do is contact me."

"I'm not sure if I should be comforted by that or if I should slap you," came the muffled reply.

"Let's go with the one that doesn't involve me being hit."

* * *

It had been hours before Vashj had finally pulled herself together and left. Kael had the sinking feeling she had gone back to Illidan. He could only hope she would run into Akama on the way and the old sage would pull her aside and reason with her. Or, at the very least, watch over her from the shadows and make sure she didn't loose her life to the madman she had the misfortune of devoting her heart too.

Too emotionally drained to pull himself off the floor, Kael reached up and pulled the book out of the desk and ran a hand across the cover.

_The time draws near...harness the power you need with the naaru vessel...then strike!_

Kael flipped the book open cautiously, eyes falling over the spell once more. It did require a lot of power. More than could possibly be left on the hunk of rock. Still, his master was right. The naaru ship had plenty of reserves, and certainly technology capable of ciphering more. Ever since he had first laid eyes on it, he had been in awe of the thing. A stoke of luck that those strange beings had shown themselves. A pity he had not been able to capture more. A pity he had sent the only one they had to Silvermoon with Rommath...

He shook his head. It was no time for hindsight. Besides...there were more naaru.

He gripped the book tightly, excitedly as a plan formed in his mind. The city in the forest was full of eredar. It would be an easy thing to convince Illidan that it needed to be sacked. The fact that they had yet to attack wouldn't matter to him – he could not see the color of their skin, nor their eyes, he would only see that they were eredar and therefore a threat. And in the chaos of battle, how simple would it be to capture one of their naaru allies?

His heart was pounding. It would mean he would have to speak with Illidan one last time, but it would be worth it in the end. The naaru were practically made of raw power.

His mind drifted briefly back to Vashj. Should he tell her? He struggled briefly with the notion. She had enough to worry about. Perhaps if he served well enough he could work her into the bargain as well. She was like a sister to him and he'd hate to loose her. As for Illidan...no. He was a lost cause. Even the sage seemed to think so. No sense in wasting resources to try to save him. Focus. Focus on the goal, worry about the little things later. If he did his job well enough, he would be rewarded. That would be the time to modify the contract.

Get the ship ready to draw up more power. Capture a new naaru. Kill as many rogue eredar in the process as he could. Anything to please the master.

He stared at the runes splashed violently across the pages, running a hand over them almost lovingly. The book felt right in his hands, like an old friend.

If he hadn't know better, he would have sworn it was burning him.


	7. Arcane Chromodynamics

A/N I'm not going to justify my laziness. If you really want to know, pop into profile and hit up my LJ - otherwise just accept it as fact and take solace in the fact that the next chapter is also written and will be posted on friday (sooner if I have time). This chapter feels a little comic relief-y, but it actually is important, and you'll figure out why very soon.

* * *

Netherstorm was aptly named. The shattered remnants of what had once been a beautiful mountain prairie hung heavily and precariously close to the edge of the Twisting Nether. The air crackled with raw energy that slipped though the flimsy border that lay between planes, lighting up the sky with an eerie glow. There was nothing remotely stable or predictable about the place. At times the flow of energy would be so great that it would disturb the stones themselves and the wind would whip to violently that anyone foolish enough to be caught out in the open would be buffeted right over the edge and into the starlit abyss. Other times the air was eerily still, the lands silent but somehow penetrated with a sense of absolute wrongness that manifested itself as nothing more that a pricking on the back of ones neck as if standing too close to a tree that had just been struck by lightning.

Kael stood in the Keep and watched as errant energy snaked across the cracked ground, mesmerized by its primal beauty. It faintly reminded him of lightning zipping across wet grass after it struck, yet he found himself far more in fear and awe of this violent new energy than he had ever been of a mere thunder storm.

He idly wondered if the shapes he had seen moving across the wastes earlier had just been tricks of the light, shadows caused by the dust and energy in the air. He felt nervous, and he wasn't sure why. He knew it had started when he had first seen the shapes, but he didn't recall thinking that much of them at the time. He had just been standing at the viewing port, holding the fel green communication crystal that had appeared on his desk some days ago, seen something at the edge of his vision and suddenly the crystal became so hot he had almost dropped it. His Master was extremely displeased about something, but he was displeased about many things, so Kael had tried to carry on the conversation while pretending not to notice, only to find that the communication had been cut and the crystal had ceased its glow. Then he felt anxious, and also a little upset, but mostly just confused. He did recall the anxiety starting from some small place inside his mind and quickly overwhelming him. An even smaller part of his mind wondered if the anxiety had even begun as his own, and had begun to pain him slightly as a result. The storm was pleasantly distracting, and he was contemplating taking a nap after it finished, if such a thing was allowed, and, if not, at the very least find some way to shut his wandering mind off for a bit.

He was too lost in thought to hear Pathaleon quietly cough from behind him.

Pathaleon tapped his foot for a few moments, gave up on looking impatient and decided to look around the room instead. Deciding that it had, in fact, not changed sine the last time he had done so (this was becoming a rather common occurrence), he moved a bit closer to the Prince, gazed out the window at storm for a moment and cleared his throat again, much louder, and with nearly enough force to send him hacking.

Kael glanced back abruptly, quickly masking his embarrassment. He hastily conjured some water and handed it to the coughing engineer, who accepted it with something of a sheepish grin.

"Ah, yes, thank you," Pathaleon wheezed. He stood there for a moment or two, trying to collect himself and remember exactly why it was he came up some twenty minutes or so ago.

Kael watched with a small frown as the engineer began a strange dance that seemed to involve spinning around very slowly and patting as many pockets as possible. Finally Pathaleon let out an "Aha!" and produced a large stack of leather bound papers, waving them triumphantly for a moment before remembering himself and presenting them to Kael with a self-satisfied smile and an oddly elegant half bow.

"...Thank you, Path," Kael began hesitantly, staring at this new tome that despite being rather innocuous, managed to leer at him as if it was going to haunt him just as much as certain other tomes in his possession. "This is..."

"My reports," Path suggested politely.

"...Yes."

"On my current projects. You'll find them all there, cataloged and compiled according to complexity, importance, and interrest. I've included a neat little index in the back, as well as a diagram cross referencing projects 3, 5 and 7 with some of my prior projects which I find they relate to quite nicely, blue prints for 2 and 3, a rather stunning if I say so myself inking of what I feel 6 will look like when it's done, as well as cost estimations, material sheets, potential hazard information, labor requests, timelines..."

Kael tuned him out, walking to his slowly to his desk, staring at the ledger as if it was about to bite him. He couldn't recall asking for any details on any of Path's projects. In fact, he generally preferred not to know about them until they were done, as they tended to be overly complicated and dangerous migraine inducing endeavors that he strove to distance himself from as much as possible. He placed it carefully on the middle of the desk, right in front of his chair to make it look as if he intended to read it, and slowly pulled his hand away. Yes, he decided. Slow, careful movements were definitely the way to go here.

"...In fact, I think you'll be quite happy with the way 5 is already going. I realized, of course, that I really should have renumbered 5 and 1, since I fully intend to devote more time to 5, but I had already drafted up the plans and labeled them quite nicely and I would hate to put scritch marks all over such nice, clean work. In any case, they are ordered how I intend to work on them in the ledger – I already mentioned that- and I have taken the liberty of telling my crews to be ready for a visit from you in the coming week to see it. Number 5, I mean. Project Reaver. Very nice codename, really sums the whole thing up. Reaver. Simple, intimidating. You know, I think I may just name it The Reaver when I am done with it, unless of course I think of something better in the meantime, you never know..."

Kael nodded in encouragement and placed a hand on Path's shoulder, slowly guiding him out. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind he was certain he heard laughing, but he chose to ignore it as he made his way to the door, occasionally dodging a wildly waving hand. Pathaleon, while a brilliant engineer, was also a highly dangerous gesticulator, and had the tendency to forget his own strength. Kael had seen him accidentally send an unfortunate mechanic's face into a control console a week before and had no desire to experience it for himself.

"Speaking of which," as they crossed the threshold, Path whirled around and Kael had to damn near duck to avoid an arm. "Remember about a week ago, when you were walking by and you asked what I was doing with that mana wyrm and that vacuum chamber and I asked what you thought on Arcane Chromodynamics?"

Kael had tried to block out the incident and had almost succeeded. He nodded anyway.

"Well," Path beamed. "I think you may want to skip ahead to project 3 then. I was lying awake that very night, wondering what could have happened to that wyrm, and it just came to me. You're going to love it. It involves taking the power of these storms, and, well...I won't spoil the surprise, you're just going to have to read it. And look at the pictures. They're quite detailed. It's a fold out, by the way. I had to use a very large parchment; I tried drawing it smaller but too much was lost and it just didn't do it justice. Anyway, you know what? Let me show you," he made a move to force himself back through the doorway, and Kael, seeing his chance for peace rapidly slipping away, quickly caught him by the shoulders and steered him down the hall.

"That's quite alright, Path. Why don't you get back to work. It sounds like you have a lot to do, and I know how you hate to fall behind your time tables. I'll go ahead and just go over the report-"

"-Reports."

"The _reports_ myself, and that way you can work on Reaper-"

"-Reaver."

"My apologies, Reaver, and your Arcane Chrono...your projects and then you can tell me all about their histories at their assorted final reviews."

Kael had managed to get him to the ramp at the end of the hall when Path suddenly turned to face him again.

"That sounds like an excellent idea. I had actually budgeted time in for this meeting, but the thought of finishing Reaver early...why I could have something really excellent to show you by the end of the week. I'm afraid you'll find some of the lead up to it in the report, but I don't think it will spoil any of the effect of the product," he bowed again, grinning like a madman, already rolling up his sleeves and adjusting the goggles precariously balanced on his head. "Well, then. I must be off, please, please, by all means, feel free to visit me in one of the workshops at anytime with any questions you may have. If I'm not in one workshop, I'm sure to be in one of the others, just ask one of my assistants, they'll know where to find me, unless I was too suddenly struck with a thought to tell them, in which case just keep checking workshops and we'll bump into each other eventually."

Kael smiled and nodded, backing away slowly. Finally, Pathaleon started down the ramp excitedly, still rambling, although the topic seemed to have somehow changed to rather complex sounding mathematics, and Kael suddenly felt the need to have a very strong drink.


	8. The Prophet in the Storm

A/N - You get this part a bit early. This is one of the interactions I have been waiting along time to get to, hopefully you enjoy it. Feedback is loved, even if it is just hate for my characterization =)

* * *

It was dark. It was never dark in Netherstorm, even during the worst of storms – especially during the worst of storms – there was always energy crackling somewhere, be it flashing across the sky or arcing over the ground, illuminating even the blackest clouds.

It was really, truly, dark. Even the Keep seemed somehow dimmer, as if it were trying very hard not to stand out.

It was just that it _was_ dark. A mere absence of light wasn't what had Kael so concerned, pacing nervously through the empty corridors that bridged the main body of the Keep and it's satellites. No, what was so bothersome was the way it even _felt_ dark. It was the kind of creeping, palpable darkness that went hand in hand with the deepest sense of foreboding – like knowing a loved one has died even before being told.

It was the sort of darkness that snuck up and smothered someone the moment they dropped their guard.

Kael had no intention of being smothered. He strode nervously through the halls, eyes darting in the shadows, expecting that at any moment the source of his unease would jump out and reveal itself.

He was halfway down the hall leading back the Keep proper when it did.

"Good evening, Prince Sunstrider."

Kael whirled, nearly stumbling in his shock. Later, he would wonder how he could have possibly missed the tall, alabaster figure striding along the corridor behind him, and would find himself completely unable to explain it. Right now, however, he was more alarmed at just how _unalarmed_ he was to see the robed figure standing so nonchalantly in the center of the hall.

"Do...do I know you?" he managed, still reeling with the not shock of it all.

The bearded eredar shook his head solemnly, crossing the gap between them in a few gentle strides, coming to stand beside Kael and gazing out the crystalline view port.

"You may know of me, perhaps, mentioned in passing or in curse," he turned and smiled almost wistfully. "Although I do doubt it."

"Then how..."

"I know you," he responded calmly. "I have seen your journey in this shattered world before you even began it, in my visions. I have seen your face many times, sometimes against the darkness, others as part of it. Do not fear, young prince," he added, noting Kael's expression. "You did nothing to give yourself away. As I said, I have known you perhaps longer than you have known yourself. That is, if you _do_ know yourself."

It was a testament to the strangeness of the last few years that Kael merely blinked and nodded and asked simply, "What sort of visions?"

"Visions of Light, visions of darkness, visions of flame and despair, visions of hope and renewal. Nothing you would care to hear in detail, I imagine."

"And why wouldn't any of that concern me?"

"Because, I believe your path is already chosen. Or, am I wrong?" He turned, gazing intently at Kael's face. "No. I am not. But, perhaps...a small glimmer of hope, something just beneath the surface. A change of heart perhaps? Or mind? We shall see, in any chance."

He placed his hands on Kael's shoulders in an almost fatherly fashion, and Kael found himself both intimidated and comforted by the gesture and the endless warmth of the blue eyes that bored into his own.

"My name is Velen. Among my people I have become considered a prophet. I am here for two reasons. The first is a message," He paused, drawing himself up. "I know of the pain in your heart, and I know of the path you now walk. This path," he gestured vaguely. "It is one of darkness, of loneliness and suffering. It is a path you must turn back from, before it is too late. I can see that you are upset by my words, and yet still you listen. It is good. It means there is still time," his eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned in. "I think, you will find, that it is sometimes better to wander than to find yourself on a road to ruin."

Kael blinked, inwardly seething, but finding himself unable to do anything but stammer incoherently.

"Trust in the Light, even in the darkness."

"The same Light that abandoned my people when the Scourge came through? Or when we were left to rot in a dungeon?" Kael spat, finding his voice. "The Light that did nothing for the ones who were dying from the withdrawal? The Light that has done so much for us since we ended up on the barren collection of rocks? Damn the Light! And damn you! I should strike you down where you stand!"

Velen gave a noncommittal shrug and turned back to the view port.

"But you won't. Interpret my words as you see fit and do what you will. I am merely delivering a message."

Kael's eye twitched and his hands shook. He felt ill. Swallowing, he spoke again.

"Two reasons," his mouth was suddenly dry. "You said that you were here for two reasons. What was the second reason?"

Velen looked at him quizzically.

"The other reason? I thought that would be obvious. I am here to take back a portion of our ship and leave this legion infested place."

Kael blinked again, taken aback by the straightforwardness of the response, but still strangely at ease. He felt his eyes being drawn to the rune that glowed above Velen's forehead.

"In fact, I believe everyone should be aboard by now. I must remember this storm trick of Nobundo's. It works wonderfully. Now, I must be off," he patted Kael on the back. "Remember these words if nothing else – Not all who wander are lost, but only those who truly seek it shall be found"

With that he left, striding down the hall, leaving a very befuddled Kael standing in the middle of the corridor feeling oddly safe and warm, despite the oddity of the evening. Basking in the unfamiliar but very welcome comfort, he walked casually back into the main hall of the Keep and watched the storm recede, not even hearing the engines firing in the satellite just behind him. It was not until five minutes later, when the alarms sounded and scores of guards and engineers went rushing past him that he realized what had just happened.


End file.
